


Bonds

by CorvusCoraxx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, light fluff, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvusCoraxx/pseuds/CorvusCoraxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple phone conversation reveals more than Castiel intended and Dean expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> Totally meant to get this up sooner. It's meant to take place at the end of 11.09. Um, I have no beta reader, so whatever errors you might find are on me. - CC

“No, man, I’m tellin’ you, I don’t get it.” Dean’s voice crackled over the poor connection. Between the bunker’s position underground, and the hunter’s position in what was likely another cheap motel just off a nondescript back road, it was almost surprising the call hadn’t disconnected already. The television still displayed the same “Are You Still Watching…” message that had been there the past hour and Castiel was still nestled comfortably to the side of his bed. Although, now, instead of smiling softly at lighthearted comedy, he was frowning slightly at a spot on the wall as he had been for the past forty minutes. What Dean was saying, if it was true, was concerning for more than a handful of reasons. 

“What does Sam have to say about it?” The entire story was unnerving, some parts more than others and for different reasons, but maybe he wouldn’t have to say anything about that yet. Amara’s attempt to force a meeting with God, and the way she had – as Dean put it – “blown those angelic jackasses to bits” was concerning, but none of that grated on him like the knowledge she’d put her hands on the elder Winchester. 

“I-…I don’t know, Cas, I can’t get ahold of him.” There was a creak on the other end of the line, which lead Castiel to assume Dean had taken a seat on a mattress. Motel it was, then. That was better than the man sleeping in his car again. “Tried for like two hours before I called you,” a clink, a hiss, and the sound of liquid followed. So, he hadn’t moved to liquor yet, but Cas gave it another hour, maybe. 

The angel sighed softly, if Sam was unreachable, it was worrisome. The brothers did have a frustrating habit of getting themselves into trouble. A talent, really. “He’s not here.” 

“Yeah? Have you even been out of that room today, Cas?” 

“I’d be able to sense him in the building.” He had a right to be slightly exasperated with the human, didn’t he? It was their fault he had any idea what a Netflix even was. 

“Right, yeah, of course,” another creak of bedsprings past their prime, followed by a tired sigh, and Castiel couldn’t help the small, fond, smile as he pictured Dean stretching out to relax on the motel bed. “So, back to this Amara thing. What’s your theory?” 

“For why she couldn’t take your soul?” He didn’t want to talk, or think, about the kiss Dean had mentioned. 

He could hear liquid sloshing on the other end of the call again, and a tiny clink he imagined was due to the other man’s teeth catching the edge of the bottle, before Dean’s voice came through the static again. “That’s crazy, right? What would make me different? Unless there’s actually something to that bullshit she’s been saying about the mark and a connection?” He sounded worried. It wasn’t obvious, just a subtle tension in his voice that Cas had learned to pick up on over the years. 

“It’s possible.” The angel hummed thoughtfully, picking at a speck near his knee. “It could also be possible your time bearing the mark and as a demon left a lasting mark on your soul, making it unsuitable for the Darkness to consume, or… eroded it entirely.” 

“What? No. _No._ Cas, if I didn’t have a soul, you would’ve picked up on that right off the bat. I mean, come on, you knew something was screwy with Sammy when he went Terminator on us.” 

The angel sighed, considering whether it was worth the effort to leave his room to fetch fresh coffee from the kitchen. The taste wasn’t anything exciting anymore, not since he’d regained his grace, but there was still something comforting about the warmth of the liquid. He’d even learned how to mostly ignore the otherwise disconcerting ‘molecule’ taste that plagued human foods now. What he wouldn’t do for a good PB&J he could _actually_ enjoy. 

“There is…one other possibility, Dean, but I’m not sure you’d like it any better.” More than a possibility, it was the explanation that seemed most likely and the one he’d hoped to keep to himself. He couldn’t bring himself to let his friend worry, though, not on top of the obvious concern for Sam’s whereabouts. Cas stood, extracting himself from his nest to exit the room he’d been given in the bunker, bound for the kitchen. 

He must have paused longer than intended, because the next time Dean’s voice hit his ear, it was impatient. “Well? Gonna share with the class?” 

“Do you remember the mark on your arm after I retrieved you from Hell?” 

“I—what? Yeah, what’s that got to do with anything?” 

Rather than going to the trouble of making himself a fresh pot, Castiel simply retrieved a mug and filled it before turning to put it in the microwave. It all tasted the same to him. “It’s possible Amara couldn’t take your soul because it’s already bound to someone else.” 

The slow creak on the other end was enough for Cas to picture Dean sitting up, possibly with that familiar expression that seemed to always be equal parts confusion, frustration, and aggression. The ‘tell me now or I beat it out of you’ look. “To _who_ , Cas?” 

“It was…unintentional. It wasn’t something planned or expected.” He hoped the warmth of the coffee would help to chase away the cold spreading through him. What if Dean didn’t want him around anymore after this? He’d already been run out of the bunker once before, for reasons he hadn’t understood at the time, and he’d been human then. Now that he was an angel again, he supposed it would be easier for the man to kick him out on the basis he wasn’t as helpless as he’d been back then. 

“To. Who.” 

“Do I need to say anything more?”

“I wanna hear it, Cas.” The angel couldn’t decipher the tone. Suspicious? Accusing? Was he imagining an undercurrent of hope? He couldn’t understand why Dean would need to hear something he seemed to have figured out already, but as the microwave beeped and Cas extracted his mug, he sighed again, heavier this time. 

“I did say, once, that we share a profound bond. More than the bond of friendship I have with both you and Sam.” He fell silent a few long seconds, bringing the cup to his lips and finding some small relief in the warmth the liquid brought to him. He didn’t realize he’d been quiet as long as he had until there was an impatient noise from the other man. “Dean, are you familiar with the concept of soul mates?” 

“Wha—is this ‘confuse the hell out of Dean’ night and I missed the memo? The hell are you talkin’ about, Cas?” 

“Soul mates, they—“ 

“I know what a friggin’ soul mate is, what’s that got to do with any of this?” 

“They aren’t strictly human/human pairs.” 

There was a long pause on the hunter’s end, and in the silence, Castiel could pick up on all the little sounds. Dean rising from the bed, crossing the room. The sound of a glass bottle on some hard surface, followed by a cap unscrewing and liquid pouring. So, the man had made the jump to liquor sooner than expected, but Cas couldn’t really blame him. “So…they can be humans paired with…other things.” 

Dean’s tone was surprisingly light, neutral, as if he was making extra effort not to ‘freak out’. At least, that’s how Cas chose to interpret it. He still didn’t dare let himself believe what he heard had been a hint of hope or interest. “Our father wanted us to love humanity, Dean. Nephilim are rare and taboo amongst angels, but they exist all the same. That wouldn’t be possible if our…species, for lack of a better term, had never been meant to interbreed. We could utilize a vessel for the purpose of sex, but why else do you think any child conceived could possibly inherit angelic traits?” 

“And yours is…me.” 

“I was just as surprised. I imagine you found it odd that every other wound on your body had healed and you were still left with that mark. I thought it best not to mention it after observing your interactions with others, but over the years I’ve become more and more confident that it’s not a mistake.” It had been obvious from the beginning that the elder Winchester had at least some interest in males that he had been either unable or unwilling to come to terms with. After so many years at Dean’s side, those that had accused him of falling in love with humanity had been mostly correct. It was just one human, though. One determined, loyal, infuriating but beautiful human. “Amara can’t take your soul because it’s already marked…for me.” 

Castiel moved the phone away from his ear briefly as a long exhale caused the static on the line to crackle louder. His free hand gripped the mug; the heat radiating from the porcelain was a distraction from the worries running rampant in his mind. 

“So that would mean my… _mine_ …is you.” 

Cas slumped slightly, leaning against the counter. Could Dean not even say the words now? “Correct.” On the other end, the bed creaked again, but after that there was a silence Cas couldn’t read. Was it angry or thoughtful? “Dean?” The quiet had become unbearable, he had to speak up. 

“I’m here, yeah. I just…This is a lot to wrap my head around, man.” 

“Of course.” Castiel frowned at the floor, still expecting the worst. “Dean, I…I’d understand if you want me to find somewhere else to stay.” Just saying it was difficult; he didn’t want to think about the actual process of packing up his few possessions and returning to life outside the bunker. 

“What? No, Cas, man, you’re not goin’ anywhere.” 

“But won’t my presence make you uncomfortable now? I know you haven’t yet accepted your attraction to males,” a surprised cough over the phone made the angel wonder if he’d startled the other man in the middle of a drink, “and I don’t intend to seek any change in our relationship if it would make you uncomfortable, but now that you know, I—“ 

“Cas. _Cas._ ” 

He fell silent as Dean interrupted, trying to ignore the twisting feeling in his stomach. 

“I mean it. You’re not goin’ anywhere. We— _I_ need you, okay.” 

Cas sighed softly, “Of course. To research, help with hunts…” 

“No. I mean, yes, but—Okay, look. We find Sammy, we find some downtime, and I’m takin’ you to this awesome little place maybe two towns over from where the bunker’s at.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Best steak in the state. Just you and me.” 

“Dean, why—“ 

“Truth is…it’s not like I haven’t thought about it, Cas.” A heavy sigh followed before the hunter continued, quicker, as if he could cover up what he’d just said, “Look, we got a lot to talk about, okay. And I can’t do it over the phone or while Sammy’s MIA. So first free minute we get, I’m takin’ you out and we’re talking about all this.” 

“Why can’t we do that here?” 

“It’s…not the same, Cas, alright.” 

“Oh.” He thought, hoped, he understood, “You mean like a date?” 

“Don’t – don’t make it sound weird, okay.” He sounded flustered, embarrassed, which brought a soft smile to Castiel’s face.

“Alright, Dean. I look forward to it.”

“Okay, good, yeah. I’m…I’m gonna try Sammy again. I’ll talk to ya later, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.” A pleasant warmth had replaced the chill that had been spreading in him. Dean didn’t hate him, didn’t want him to leave, and seemed willing to at least discuss their situation going forward. Cas dumped out the remainder of his coffee and returned to his room feeling lighter, more hopeful, than he had in years.


End file.
